


You Don't Have to Say It

by Sue_Snell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Begging, Gen, Hair-pulling, M/M, Power Play, Sassy Crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 04:02:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7829704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sue_Snell/pseuds/Sue_Snell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>S10 finale missing scene fic. He told Castiel that all he had to do was beg for his help. That didn't mean he wouldn't hold out until the angel did it properly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Don't Have to Say It

**Author's Note:**

> Holy shit, typing "Crowley" into the additional tags field is the most surprisingly-entertaining thing I've done all week, and now I'm probably gonna spend my whole Sunday alternately reading "Crowley is a Little Shit" fics and "Crowley and Feelings" fics. Ahem. Anyway.
> 
> Finally, the last fic in my kinkmeme-to-AO3 transfer effort. The [prompt](http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/98383.html?thread=38025807#t38025807) was for a "proper" rendition of that "Beg for it." scene in the S10 finale.

_Oh. Your. God. You’re handing me the list. You’re_ actually _handing me the list like you think you’ve actually_ earned _it, you bloody_ deluded _overgrown pigeon_.  
  
Crowley stuffed his hands in his pockets, refusing to take the proffered scrap of paper, though he did give it a quick skim. A rather... _advanced_ ingredients list. Doable, but by no means easy. Definitely worth more than the cheeky display he’d just witnessed.  
  
“What?” said Cas irritably.  
  
“You call that begging, do you?”  
  
“If you refuse to help, just say so.”  
  
“I’m _happy_ to help, once you beg, as I _thought_ we’d agreed.” Cas rolled his eyes. Apparently he’d forgotten how this worked. Crowley went on: “Have I ever gone back on a deal with you before? Considering _your_ history, can you blame me for wanting you to pay upfront?” The angel’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.  
  
“Pardon me for having standards,” Crowley concluded with a shrug, “I mean, you didn’t even say please...”  
  
“ _Please_. Happy?”  
  
“Well, it’s a _start_. Shall we try it once more with feeling, then?”  
  
“Crow— _King_ , we don’t have time for this.”  
  
Crowley grinned at Cas’s self-correction. So the little tree-topper _could_ be taught. Good to know. Aloud he said, “No, _you_ don’t have time to argue with me. So. Once more, then! _With feeling!_ ” He’d ended on a shout for emphasis, but even after that and _even_ with time working against him, Cas didn’t look a hundred percent sold on the contract. Fine. You didn’t get to be a closer by holstering the big guns. Smirking, Crowley added in a low voice: “So how _is_ our favorite Winchester doing these days?”  
  
 _That_ hit the mark. Cas looked away, his shoulders tensed, and Crowley thought he even heard a hitch in his breath. The situation with Dean had taken a turn for the dire, no doubt about it, and it was just as clear that it was tearing Cas apart. After a moment of anguished fuming he returned his ingredients list to his pocket, knowing this could take a while. Smart boy.

“ _Please_.” Curt, but not sarcastic like before, at least.  
  
“Getting warmer,” said Crowley, “Please, _what?_ ”  
  
“Please... _your highness_...” Well that _would’ve_ been a nice touch if the sarcasm hadn’t returned all the stronger. “I. Am. _Begging_ for your help.” He’d delivered the rest of the tainted plea through gritted teeth. Hardly convincing.  
  
Crowley stroked his beard thoughtfully, pretending to deliberate.  
  
“You’re begging me,” he repeated, “On your feet, you’re begging me... Doesn’t have much of a ring to it, does it?”  
  
Cas frowned at him, puzzled. Several seconds passed—with a pang of disappointment, Crowley started to think he’d have to explain—before realization dawned:  
  
“You...” Cas’s nose crinkled as if he tasted something sour. “You wish me to kneel?”  
  
“Well, I certainly wouldn’t _object_...” Crowley could swear he _saw_ Cas’s insides tying themselves in knots, _feel_ how badly he wanted to walk away, but they both knew he wouldn’t. They both knew Crowley would’ve said no by now if he wasn’t in, that if Cas simply played the game he’d get the help he so desperately needed. To give up _now_ would be stupid. Costly. _Not_ an option. Cas sank gracelessly to his knees, glancing over his shoulder a couple times as if afraid someone might be watching.  
  
“What?” Crowley stepped forward and gave Cas’s hair a playful ruffle. “Think somebody might wander up and catch us?”  
  
“That would be undesirable,” he replied flatly, leaning away from Crowley’s touch and glaring up at him.  
  
“If you say so. Well, then?”  
  
“Please.” Frig’s sake, there he went with that _tone_ again. “I am begging you, ‘king,’ on my _knees_ I beg you.”  
  
Crowley sighed. The words were right, but the tune was all wrong. Whole bit rang with far more irritation than supplication. He said, “You know what? If this is going to work I think we need you to stop talking; you keep _ruining_ it with words.”  
  
Cas opened his mouth, and out popped an aborted complaint in the form of a whiny little grunt of frustration (“ _Enh—!_ ”) before he quickly shut it again. Crowley chuckled.  
  
“Now _that_ sound was kind of cute. Might help your case to do more of those.”  
  
The angel glanced away petulantly—pretending to have another look around to check for voyeurs, but Crowley spotted the faint flush in his cheeks; little Cassie was getting _embarrassed_. Looking back to Crowley, his hands bounced out in a palms-up gesture of exasperation. “ _Enh?_ ”  
  
Crowley laughed again, then drew his eyebrows together in mock confusion and asked, “Am I supposed to understand that?” Cas responded by tilting his head to one side and crossing his arms dourly. Rolling his eyes, Crowley said, “I don’t know _how_ you should go about begging without talking, but talking was getting us nowhere. Why don’t you try selling it with those big blue eyes of yours? They _are_ your best feature.”

Cas’s chin dipped and his gaze fell to the ground, obscuring his expression from Crowley’s view, though his shoulders visibly rose and fell with his suddenly heavy breathing. Crowley was unsure of the source of the angel’s tension. Humiliation? Anxiety? Or maybe he’d miscalculated and managed to _really_ piss him off...  
  
He was startled—barely kept from pulling back—when, without looking up, Cas reached out and gently took his hand. Cas’s own hand was trembling. Giving a light squeeze, he slowly brought his gaze back up to Crowley’s.  
  
He’d only said it to tease, but Crowley had to admit he wasn’t wrong about those eyes. Right now they were big and shimmery, longing— _pleading_. Cas’s lips parted to let out a defeated sigh in place of all the desperate little whispered nothings dancing behind that wounded gaze. Crowley would give it a moment before he _said_ anything, but _finally_ Cas was getting it right.  
  
Taking Crowley’s silence as a sign of dissatisfaction, Cas’s brow furrowed with concern. He visibly swallowed, mournful stare still locked on Crowley. The demon couldn’t repress a flutter of anticipation; this felt like a prelude to... _something_. He felt the angel squeeze his hand again. Then, he felt a pull. Not once breaking eye-contact, Cas deliberately drew Crowley’s hand to his lips, and planted a tender kiss on his knuckles.  
  
 _Bloody hell_. Crowley couldn’t say _what_ exactly he’d expected just then, but it wasn’t _that_. He didn’t know if he was more shocked by the fact Cas actually went and did the thing or the fact he’d come up with it all by himself. He looked down to see a hopeful smile—Or was it really amusement?—tugging at the corners of Cas’s lips and forced himself to regain his composure. No way was he going to let Cas walk away thinking he managed to throw him off-balance. With his hand still the barest distance from the angel’s lips, he tried to ignore the tiny chill Cas’s every inhale sent across the skin he’d kissed, the damp warmth with every exhale...  
  
Coolly raising one eyebrow, Crowley said, “My my, Castiel. If I’d known this would get you to show your sweet side I’d’ve done it years ago.” He roughly shook his hand from Cas’s hold and tangled his fingers in his hair. At first Cas reflexively jerked away, but one warning tug from Crowley was all it took to still him. Cas’s widened eyes had yet to leave his. Was that a touch of fear in there? Crowley stared back. Keeping his hand in Cas’s hair, he brought up his other hand to lightly pat his cheek.  
  
“You wouldn't say no, would you?” he said dully, “Not _now_. You’d just close your eyes and think of England.” He snorted as Cas finally broke eye-contact to take an anxious glance at his crotch. “If that’s what we want to start calling him. Can’t swear I wouldn’t do the same... Well, lucky for you I’ve done some research in this field and happen to know you celestial types are _embarrassingly_ sub-par when it comes to performing that particular service.” He tightened his hold on Cas’s hair and bent down to bring their faces level.  
  
“And that,” he whispered, “Is the _only_ reason I’m letting you off so easy, understand?”  
  
His grip was too tight to allow a nod, so Cas had to settle for an affirmative “ _Enh._ ” Crowley couldn’t help but smile at the sound.  
  
“Brilliant.” He straightened up, letting go of Cas’s hair at last. “Get up.”  
  
Cas shakily stood and dusted himself off. It was fun seeing him like this: Flustered, hair a mess, dust from the road clinging to his trousers, especially around the knees. Crowley was tempted to get his phone out and take a picture. Maybe send it to Dean after all this Mark business was done with.  
  
“Alright,” he said, straightening his tie, “You’ve earned it— _barely_. Let’s see this list of yours.”


End file.
